Sins of the Past
by hexedwinchester
Summary: Waking up to a blinding pain in the back of his head was enough for Sam to realize that something had gone terribly south. He pulled his hand to his temples to sooth some of the pain away only to find his hand hadn't cooperated. Why won't his hands cooperate?
1. Chapter 1

**AN** : I'm back with a new story! Yes, I know I still have to finish Ruins of a Soul but this story kept haunting me so I had to write it. It is set in early period of Season 5. No beta. All mistakes are my own.

P.S. Hurt!Sam because what else is better than that?

Enjoy!

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Waking up to a blinding pain in the back of his head was enough for Sam to realize that something had gone terribly south. He pulled his hand to his temples to sooth some of the pain away only to find his hand hadn't cooperated. _Why won't his hands cooperate?_ He tried again and this time he felt the all too familiar cold, sharp edge of what could only be a pair of handcuffs biting into his wrists. He winced. If his hands were cuffed it surely meant someone wanted him there. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him and he quietly cursed himself for not thinking about it before. He opened his eyes and was relieved to see them complying. Apart from the wayward strands of his chestnut tinted hair nothing else was obstructing his view. Experience had taught him that sometimes cuffed hands came with the added bonus of blindfolds and gags. Luckily, it was just the handcuffs for now.

The sight of the dingy basement brought back the memories in one flooding motion. _The case_. _The visions. Missing blonde girls._ _ **Jess**_ _. His Jess._ But how was that possible? Five years ago, he had seen his sweet, innocent Jess burn on the ceiling of their apartment while he just lay on the bed helpless, doing nothing until his brother stepped in and saved his sorry ass. He should have saved her but he didn't. So how did she show up in his visions -if they were visions at all- in the very same basement as this one?

Confused, his eyes traveled to the spot he had suspected the unconscious blonde girl to be Jess. The girl was there, lying still, her face away and hidden from him so he couldn't tell if it was Jess. The poor light from the bulb hanging in the centre of the room like a corpse of the guilty at hangman's noose wasn't helping either. It had to be somebody else. How could it be Jess?

As if on a cue, the lump that was the blonde girl, stirred in a way that was not natural. Dragging the dirty, sprawled limbs closer to her body in a very non graceful way, she lifted herself off the damp floor.

"Are you OK?" Sam asked, Jess or not, it was his job to save all the lives that he could. So much for being _not_ fit for hunting.

Slowly, she turned around and looked at the man trapped in the chair. He was larger than average men; his hair was longer and seemed to get into his eyes a lot because he kept blinking them away. Thick ropes were binding his long legs to the chair. Her eyes stared into his as recognition settled between them.

 _"Jess"_ , he breathed, half relieved half confused. It was her!

Though Sam had seen Dean come back from the dead, hell, he himself had been brought back from the dead and yet he couldn't believe how Jessica was back. "Jessica?" he said again. And again. Taking in her beautiful features, her blonde ringlets, the shine in her eyes, the curves of her soft lips, that little mole between her eyes that he kissed every night before he went to bed, his eyes brimmed with tears as he realized this was his Jess.

"Sam", this was the first time she spoke. And it was his name. How many nights had gone by when he desired to hear her call his name? Too many. Far too many. Now, here she was. Alive, a little scathed but alive nonetheless.

"Sam", she called his name again while Sam quietly choked down the sob that threatened to escape his lips. "You look different." Of course, he looked different. It was five years ago. She was closing the distance between them. In another two steps she was standing right in front of him. She was wearing the same gown from the night she was killed. It was smeared with dirt but there were no traces of blood on her.

"Jessica", Sam repeated and hated himself the Winchester way because apparently he was only able to utter her name.

With guarded caution, she lifted her hand and placed it on his cheek. This time the sob escaped, followed by a rivulet of fresh tears. Overwhelmed, Sam closed his eyes and rested his cheek in her warm hand. Her thumb gently wiped away his tears, a gesture Sam had yearned for. Another warm sensation rested on his other cheek and he opened his eyes to see Jess, _his Jess,_ cupping the teary messy that was his face.

Rubbing her thumbs in delicious circles, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. The sound that erupted from Sam's throat was somewhere between a sob and a guttural moan. Her lips were warm and soft against his wet, quivering ones. Her hands disappeared and tangled into his soft locks, grasping at them, pulling his face closer to he, pressing her lips harder against his. Sam wanted nothing more than to stay frozen in this moment forever, to hold her close to his heart and to never let her go. Only if his arms were free!

Suddenly, alarm bells began to ring in his ears as something dawned on him. He was cuffed to a chair which meant Jess was still in danger from whatever that was abducting blonde girls. Reluctantly breaking the kiss, Sam pulled his head away from her. "Jessica," he panted, breathless from the kiss, "You have to get out of here. Get help. Go find Dean. Go, before whatever took you returns!"

Jessica just stared back clueless as if he was speaking in a language that she didn't understand.

"Jessica, go!" Sam shouted, trying to shake her off her dazed state. Why wasn't she listening to him? "Go, before it comes back"

"But what about you, Sam?"

"I'll be fine. Just go! Get out of here!" the urgency in Sam's tone was too hard to miss. He had lost her once, he wasn't losing her again.

"Okay, okay!" Jess replied, breaking out of her confusion. "Get Dean."

She pulled herself away from him, looking around for an exit. Catching the sight of the stairs leading to a wooden door, she leaped towards it. Sam caught a breath or two of relief but it was short-lived because not few steps away from the stairs to the basement door, she halted and turned.

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 **AN** : Intrigued? Yes? no? If you want the next chapter please review and let me know.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

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Retracing her own steps, Jessica made her way back to Sam who had confusion etched on his forehead.

"You remember my brother, Dean?" He asked unsure of just how much she remembered from the last time they were together.

"He came to our place, wanting to talk to you about… about..." she tried hard to remember why he had been there that night.

The memory had upset her; Sam could see that in the way her lips curled down in a frown. "It doesn't matter why he came, you remember him, don't you? Find my phone and call Dean." Sam encouraged but she was a little dazed, lost in memory. "Jessica!" He called aloud trying to break her train of thoughts. "Phone, Dean, now!"

Jessica flinched at Sam's sudden uproar. She quickly came to her senses and fumbled around in the dim light that filled the room through a cracked window. Sam looked around providing another set of eyes. The worn out material of his duffel caught his attention. It was thrown haphazardly across the floor.

"Look in that brown duffel." He suggested meanwhile keeping an eye out for whatever was coming for them.

Heeding to his order, Jessica rummaged around the duffel, trying to find anything that resembled a phone. "Is this it?" she asked holding what looked like a flat rectangular piece of metal that emitted soft glow.

Sam's sighed in relief. "Yes! That's the one. Call Dean and find something to help me out these" he said yanking at the ring of metal encircling his wrists.

Jessica ambled towards him, the phone in her hand glowing softly. She cupped his face gently, caressing the smooth planes of his cheekbone. Her touch was warm and loving and Sam had bite back a sob. Their eyes met and a cold, sinister grin spread across her lips. Before Sam could comprehend, she hit him with the butt of his Taurus.

 **-SPN-**

Seeing the familiar number for the fourth time, Dean was going to let it ring but then decided against it. "Yeah?" Dean drawled on the phone. _What part of 'we should both just pick a hemisphere' did Sam's Einstein brain not understand?_ Dean had let his call to voicemail but when his annoying little brother wasn't catching his drift he knew it was time Sam heard it straight from him. He was about give Sam an earful on how it was best for them to stay divorced, but then stopped when he heard heavy breathing on the other side.

"Sam?" Dean's mind began to worry him. Did he manage to find trouble already? What happened to staying low?

"Dean?" a soft feminine voice breathed in to the phone. It was one thing for Sam to dial him when he was in trouble; it was another to hear someone else's voice on his brother's phone.

"Who is this?" Dean demanded, angry now, "Why do you have Sam's phone?" and _how?_ But that would have to wait in the queue.

"Dean, it's me", said the voice, "Jessica."

Dean's blood froze. There was only one Jessica when it came to Sam. But it couldn't be. She had died. Burned on the ceiling, just like his mother. So how was he to explain this phone call? "Jessica as in –"

"Jessica Moore" she filled in, "Sam's Jess." No. _No,_ it can't be her. "Dean, you have to help me. Sam, Sam…" she hiccuped. She was crying. But something she said, about Sam, which had him reaching for his gun.

"Sam, WHAT?!" Dean scolded, immediately regretting when he heard her sob noisily. He tucked his gun back in the waistband. "Jessica, where is Sam?"

"He isn't moving. Dean, you have to help me. Help Sam!"

Dean wiped the sweat beading his forehead as he tried to talk her down. "Calm down, Jessica. Is he hurt? Bleeding?"

"I don't know." She sounded panicked. There was some shuffling in the background. That better be the sound of her checking for Sam's injuries. After some more of moving things around and soft sniveling, "There's blood on his shirt but I can't tell if he is hurt."

"What do you mean, you can't tell?" Dean roared and winced when his fist came down hard on the wall, flakes of plaster crumbling off the wall, bloody knuckle imprinted on the spot where he had punched.

Her voice was faster now. "I'm sorry, Dean, you have to help him. You have to –" The line went dead.

"Jess! Hello? Jessica?" There no answer except for a dead tone.

Dean was instantly on the next call. "Bobby, I need help. It's Sam."

 **-SPN-**

Ending the call, she smiled to herself. Her azure eyes locked on to Sam's still form. His head was slumped on his shoulder; the cut disappearing in his hairline was bleeding sluggishly. She waited for him to come around.

A soft moan drew her attention from the plastic brick that passed as a phone these days to the man who looked completely different than the one she loved. She put his gun away and picked up a serrated knife that was stashed inside the duffel.

Sam groaned softly as consciousness returned to him. He felt disoriented, as if he was waking up from a bad dream, a terrible nightmare. Half of his head was throbbing but his memory was hazy with a thick fog that refused to dissolve away.

Then the waves came crashing down on him and his body jolted to a state of full awareness. _Jess_. She was here. She was the blonde girl from his visions. She was in danger. _She was the one who clubbed him in the head_. The ache in his head was a proof of that. Why would his Jess do that? _Unless, she wasn't his Jess at all_.

The thing wearing his sweet Jessica's face came into light, Ruby's knife glinting bright in her hand. One look at that menacing expression and Sam knew it wasn't the girl he loved. It couldn't be her. Whatever it was, it had done a remarkable job of perfectly replicating her down to every single pore but it hadn't succeeded in duplicating her tenderness, her compassion, her love for him.

She smiled to herself when she recognized that look Sam always had on his face when he failed to comprehend the situation: Soulful eyes drawn together, creases visible on his forehead, lips slightly parted. Oh, how much she loved his bewilderment.

"Which of the supernatural freaks are you?" Sam asked the thing gazing at him with a curious expression.

"My, my, Sam. Just how much time has changed you?" Even though, Sam knew it wasn't her, it sounded so much like her that his heart ached. _Shut up, you fool. It is not your Jess._

"Tell me, what you are!" Sam demanded as the thing moved closer, walking with Jessica's unmistakable grace.

All in good time, Sam" That was the only answer she provided before ignoring Sam once again. She ran her fingers into his hair, rolling a wayward lock between her thumb and her finger before tucking it behind his ear. "Your hair is longer." She smiled a sad smile, no hint of malice.

It was as if she was comparing this new Sam with her old one. Sam wanted to laugh, to tell her it was ridiculous to look for that Sam because he had died with Jessica the same night. The person in front of her was just an empty shell left from who Sam used to be.

She was speaking again. "How long has it been since..." she didn't fill the blanks but Sam knew what the words were. "Two years? Three?"

Five. It had been five years since Jessica was gone and Sam's life had never been the same again. It was never going to be the same.

Wind whistled and a stinging pain fanned across his left cheek. She slapped him. "I asked you a question, Sam" she said reaching for his hair. Grabbing a handful, she tugged at them, the grip promising to cull them from their roots. "Answer me!"

Tears filled his eyes as few strands of his hair were ripped from his scalp but the fire in his eyes was blazing. Only Sam could master the balance between hurt and insurgence. It was an odd combo but Sam always had been a mix of complex things. Like, for a man with his physique, he still played that innocent kicked puppy look all too well.

"I can always make you talk, Sam" Jessica sneered, her eyes glinting like a predator matching the shine of the knife still cradled in her hand.

"Give it your best shot, bitch." Sam challenged looking straight into her eyes.

The hand gripping the knife slipped to the column of his neck, while the one in his hair tightened its grip. She tugged a handful of his soft locks and yanked them harshly in a jerky moment, tipping his chin back, causing a pained groan to erupt from him, "Ah!"

Jess took the advantage of his parted lips and closed her own over them. Somewhere from the background came the clatter of knife hitting the floor. The sudden assault came as a shock to Sam but before he could turn away, she drew his bottom lip into her mouth and began nibbling the soft skin between her teeth like she always used to. Jessica was kissing him. He was already losing the battle. Parting his lips open, she plunged her tongue into the fierce heat of his mouth.

Sam moaned in her mouth, her kiss igniting flames of desire within him. A sensible part of him was screaming the harsh truth he knew too well but with Jessica's slender fingers raking his scalp and her warm body straddling him, snuggling into his chest, his own body ignored that voice. As much as he didn't want it, he found his body eagerly reacting to hers. His lips were moving in sync with hers, his body leaning into her. Pushing the conflicting voice away, he let his body surrender to her.

With no more resistance from the man in her arms, she took advantage of Sam's bound yet pliant body. She kissed the long column of his neck, sucking the soft skin at the base. Thin fingers were working their way over his chest, inside his shirt, tracing the dips and ridges of his ribs, settling delicately above hips. Sam let out a needy whine when the hands were gone taking the warmth away with them. But not for long because she was already kissing his cheek, easing the sting from her blow earlier. Their lips locked again, tongue combating for dominance.

Piercing pain in his side brought Sam back from the pleasurable high. A scream echoed through the basement and Sam realized in horror, it was his scream. His eyes snapped open and traveled to the place of origin of the pain. Pale fingers were gripping the handle of Ruby's knife that was sticking out under his ribs on his left side. His breath came in short gasps, each mouthful moving the blade inside his body, tearing it wider. His vision swam in and out, spots and stars flashing in front of eyes. Jessica pushing the knife deeper was the last thing he saw before darkness claimed him.

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 **AN** : All those in the favor of Chapter 3, please leave your reviews! Merry Christmas! :)


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